


Bad Idea?

by menel



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8278313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: In which Anduin Lothar wakes up with the mother of all hangovers and finds the mage Khadgar in his bed. Except, nothing is what it seems.





	

Anduin Lothar, the Lord Commander of the Alliance Forces, felt like a thousand drums were beating in his head. He cracked open one eye and immediately regretted it. Blindness did not have to accompany the beating drums. 

The bed on which he was lying face down was hard, much harder than the bed in his chambers at Stormwind, harder even, than his bed at the barracks. The linen that scratched against his face was coarse. Not that Lothar cared for such niceties. The details merely informed him of where he was _not_. Now, _where_ he was, and with _whom_ he was (his instincts had immediately picked up that he was not alone) were the more interesting questions.

Memories from the evening before were trying to make their way to his consciousness. Goldshire. The Lion’s Pride Inn. Khadgar. 

Khadgar!

It was that blasted mage’s fault that Lothar felt like he’d been run over by a troop of trolls. Yesterday afternoon, Khadgar had ported into the war room at the keep, startling everyone that had been gathered around the large table where Lothar and his officers were poring over their maps of troop movements. Khadgar had given Lothar a sheepish smile (endearing, Lothar had thought absently at the time), and gestured that they should continue their discussion. There were murmured words of ‘Guardian’ and quick nods from Anduin’s lieutenants to acknowledge Khadgar’s presence. Still uncomfortable with his new position, Khadgar had flushed at the acknowledgment, his eyes briefly meeting Lothar’s. 

Lothar had given Khadgar his own nod and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

“Take your time,” the mage had replied. “It’s not urgent.” 

Lothar had raised a skeptical brow. Teleportation was an unusual means of transportation to show how ‘not urgent’ something was. Then again, Khadgar’s enthusiasm would sometimes get the better of him, especially when studying or new discoveries were involved. Lothar suspected that an elaborate tale of a major breakthrough would be involved. He continued listening to the updates from his lieutenants before firing off instructions of his own. Almost thirty minutes had passed before his soldiers filed out of the room, once again acknowledging Khadgar’s presence as they left. Lothar had watched, amused, from where he was now perched at the edge of the large table as Khadgar had sort of half waved, half nodded at the departing soldiers, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. The kid was social awkwardness personified. 

“I hate it when they do that,” Khadgar said quietly, taking quick strides to stand before Lothar. 

“You’ll have to get used to it some time,” Lothar answered, arranging two of the maps before fully turning his attention to the young mage. 

“And I’m _not_ the Guardian,” Khadgar added. 

That was true, Lothar silently agreed. He recalled how horrified Khadgar had been when he’d first broached the topic of Khadgar taking Medivh’s place.

“I _renounced_ my vows!” Khadgar had reminded him passionately. 

“You would not be the Guardian,” Lothar had replied. “My sister is offering you a position here at Stormwind as Mage Consul to the Regent. She would like you to stay.” Lothar had paused, reading the hesitation on Khadgar’s face. “ _We_ would like you to stay,” he amended. 

Khadgar had fallen silent, the look on his face still troubled. 

Lothar had closed the distance between them, placing a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder. “The arcane is part of who you are. You were chosen for this,” he had said. “Not just by the Kirin Tor, but by Medivh himself. If things had turned out differently, he would’ve trained you. I _know_ in my heart he would have.”

“You don’t blame me for his death?” Khadgar wouldn’t look at him as he asked that question, his voice small and uncertain. 

“What?” Lothar had barked in surprise, using his other hand to grasp Khadgar by the chin so that the mage would look at him. “You _saved_ Medivh. You saved all of us.” 

Khadgar had tried to shake his head. “Not all,” he’d murmured. 

Lothar had wanted to knock some sense into him. “Not all,” he’d agreed instead, his heart wrenching at the thought of Llane, and of Garona’s betrayal. “But so many. So many,” he’d repeated. 

The mage had grown tense under his touch. Lothar was sure that he’d pushed too hard, and that Khadgar was on the brink of pulling away from him. To his surprise, the opposite happened. The young man seemed to crumple into his arms, burying his head into Lothar’s chest as he hugged Lothar tightly. Lothar was so shocked that it took a long moment before he responded in kind.

“I don’t deny that you still have much to learn,” Lothar had continued quietly. “But you are battle-tested now, and I’ve seen how powerful you are. The rest…” he’d trailed off and then chuckled. 

“What?” Khadgar had said, voice slightly muffled from where he was nestled comfortably against Lothar. He sounded both petulant and a little miffed. 

“The rest you can find in your beloved books,” Lothar couldn’t help but tease. He could feel the mage smiling against him. Whatever tension was left had drained out of Khadgar’s body.

It should’ve felt awkward, Lothar would muse later, holding Khadgar for that long. But the young man had shown no signs of releasing him, and Lothar hadn’t been about to do so either. So, they’d stayed that way in a comfortable and intimate embrace until Khadgar had finally said, “Thank you, Lothar.” 

“Anduin,” he’d corrected, ruffling the mage’s short hair, as they’d broken apart. “You should call me Anduin. All my friends do.”

“What is not-so-urgent?” Lothar asked now, eyes already twinkling in anticipation. 

It was all the encouragement the mage needed before he launched into a tale of his latest breakthrough in spell casting. Lothar sat back and enjoyed the show. In truth, he’d come to look forward to these ‘interruptions.’ Khadgar animated and so clearly passionate about what he loved was a welcome break from the grim reality of Stormwind’s position. The city was beleaguered and no matter how Lothar did the math, there was no way to defend his beloved Stormwind. When the Orcs made their final assault – which was inevitable – the city would fall. It was just a matter of time. 

“We should celebrate!” 

Lothar had temporarily gotten lost in his own thoughts and so he’d missed that last part about celebrating. 

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Khadgar demanded when Lothar didn’t react. 

“Most of it,” Lothar admitted. “I particularly enjoyed the bit where you turned yourself into cat – _Kat_ gar.” 

Khadgar groaned. “That’s just terrible,” he said, Lothar’s bad pun distracting him from his original accusation. “That’s proof enough that you need a break, Commander.”

Lothar merely crossed his arms and arched a questioning brow. 

“Come on,” Khadgar said, stepping even closer, a touch of entreaty entering his voice. “When was the last time you went to Goldshire?” 

Goldshire. Lothar couldn’t even remember. Not since – 

“Come out with me,” Khadgar said, his hand now on Lothar’s forearm. “Just us. Put the war on hold for one night.” 

Khadgar’s hand felt very warm on Lothar’s arm despite the layer of clothing. He thought that maybe something was happening in this moment, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. Lothar despised uncertainty and his instinctive response was to turn to humor. Khadgar was used to his teasing by now. It had become a sign of affection between them. 

“Bookworm, are you asking me out on a date?” 

“What?” Khadgar released his arm instantly and stumbled backwards in his effort to put some distance between them. “No!” he said, a little too vehemently. “No, of course not,” he repeated once he’d regained his composure, his hands smoothening out the front of his tunic though Lothar couldn’t see a wrinkle anywhere. When Khadgar looked up again, Lothar knew that his smirk would irritate the younger man, as puzzled as he was by Khadgar’s flustered reaction. 

“Well, are you coming or not?” Khadgar said, his embarrassment eclipsed by his irritation. 

Lothar decided to put the younger man out of his misery. “Lead on, Bookworm,” he said fondly.

* * * * *

The evening progressed much as Lothar expected it would. Dinner and then ale, and then more ale, and more ale. Now that Khadgar was comfortable with him and had opened up more than Lothar had ever thought he would, the young mage was good company though he still wasn’t much of a drinker. Still, Lothar couldn’t help but notice that Khadgar was making a real effort with the ale that night. Normally, Khadgar would order one tankard out of politeness and then nurse it for the whole evening. That night he was halfway through his second tankard.

Fortunately or not, they didn’t spend the evening alone either since a band of visiting dwarfs entered the inn. Lothar immediately recognized them as being part of the delegation sent by King Magni to deliver more boomsticks to aid Stormwind. Lothar waved them over, shooting Khadgar an apologetic look as he did so. Matters of state intruding on his personal time was something that Lothar had grown used to long ago. Being the King Regent had only increased his duties ten-fold. Khadgar nodded in understanding, dipping his head to briefly peer into his half-empty tankard. The mage appeared to reach some kind of decision before he downed the rest of his drink and then stood up. Lothar was just about to tell him that he didn’t mean for (nor want) him to leave, but Khadgar took him by surprise again, walking around their table and seating himself beside Lothar instead, just as the dwarfs reached them. Lothar had just enough time to glance at Khadgar quizzically before the Captain of the dwarven band plonked himself before the Commander, taking Khadgar’s former seat. 

“Lothar!” the Captain boomed.

The evening became a blur after that. Lothar could guess how much ale had been involved. There had been a drinking competition as well, since dwarves were very fond of those. Now, Lothar knew for a fact that he could hold his own against dwarves, had even drunk Magni once under the table (a feat that the king still refused to admit in public to this day), but last night had hardly been a fair competition since Lothar had had such a head start. Still, he gamely joined knowing he couldn’t very well rely on Khadgar to uphold the honor of their race at the table. Amidst the drinking and the raucous laughter and the stories, a bet had been made. The details were extremely hazy. Something about a conquest? Of the carnal sort? Had it been the barmaid? The shapely one with the auburn hair? Lothar couldn’t remember. 

He groaned. The incessant drumming in his head was growing louder. 

“Here,” a familiar voice said. “This will help.” 

Lothar finally turned over, eyes still shut. He held out his right hand and felt a glass pushed into his palm. He gripped it firmly as he hauled himself into a semi-sitting position. Without hesitation and not even bothering to examine the contents of the glass, Lothar opened his eyes and gulped the liquid. He made a face at the bitter aftertaste and returned the glass to his companion, before settling back against the pillows and shutting his eyes. He felt a shift in the bed as Khadgar moved. 

After a few moments, Lothar’s head cleared, the drumming fading away into a dull ache. He opened his eyes to find that the morning light was no longer blinding him. That was one hell of a hangover cure. He glanced to his right appreciatively but the absolute look of misery on Khadgar’s face stopped him from saying anything. What could Khadgar be so miserable about? Lothar took a moment to assess the situation. They were in a room in the Lion’s Pride. He was shirtless but still wearing his undergarments. The rest of his clothes were neatly folded on top of a nearby chair, his boots underneath the same chair. He definitely did not remember doing _that_ , and wondered if Khadgar had been playing housekeeper. Or perhaps the barmaid before she left? There _had_ been a woman involved last night, hadn’t there? Lothar half-remembered hot kisses and questing hands.

When he glanced at his companion again, it was hard to miss the fact that Khadgar was sitting on the edge of the bed fully clothed. In fact, there was a tenseness about him that signaled to Lothar that Khadgar’s fight or flight instinct was about to kick in. In this instance, it was obvious that Khadgar was about to flee. Perhaps he’d stayed just long enough to make sure that Lothar took the hangover cure. Now he looked ready to bolt. Lothar couldn’t understand why. Was Khadgar feeling guilty about the night before? Sure, going to Goldshire had been the kid’s idea, but Lothar wasn’t going to hold someone else responsible for _his_ actions. Khadgar had meant well and Lothar always enjoyed his company. The mage couldn’t have predicted that the dwarfs would join them or the drinking competition that ensued or the strange bet that kept niggling at the back of Lothar’s mind. (He felt like he was missing something important.) Khadgar certainly shouldn’t have looked so miserable. Lothar was beginning to suspect that the mage hadn’t gotten much sleep either, judging by the shadows under his eyes. (Where _had_ Khadgar slept? Did he just sneak into Lothar’s room once he knew that Lothar was alone?) Khadgar was looking the worse for wear, which was a strange observation given that Lothar was the one who’d needed the hangover cure. 

“Impressive potion,” Lothar said into the stillness of the room.

There was a beat before Khadgar responded. “I’ve been told it’s fast acting. Never needed to use it myself.” He paused. “Potions was one of my weaker studies in Dalaran,” he admitted after a while. 

Lothar gave him a wry grin. “You mean you’re not naturally brilliant in all the magical arts?” he teased. 

Khadgar gave an exasperated sigh that made him sound more like himself, some of that tension uncoiling. “It’s not all fireballs and bolts of lightning, you know,” he replied. 

Lothar turned on his side so that he was facing the mage. “Tell me,” he said, propping his head on his hand. “What else were your ‘weaker studies’?” 

Khadgar gave the question some thought before saying, “Transfiguration. But I’ve improved a lot since then.” 

Lothar couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Yes,” he agreed. “Based on yesterday’s cat escapade.” He was grinning broadly at the mage, but Khadgar didn’t share in his humor. In fact, the young man’s tension had returned full force. Lothar wondered what had triggered it. Surely not the joke about the transfiguration mishap. Just as quickly, Lothar realized what the trigger was – the word ‘yesterday.’ Khadgar was still thinking about what had happened yesterday, or more accurately, last night. 

“Khadgar,” he said reassuringly. “Don’t worry about last night.”

“What?” Khadgar’s voice was unnaturally high. 

“Last night,” Lothar repeated, that niggling feeling bothering him again. “I don’t blame you for any of that.” 

Instead of being reassured, Khadgar looked even more panicked. Why was he behaving so strangely? 

“It’s probably not what you had in mind when you suggested we go to Goldshire,” Lothar went on. “But the dwarfs meant well. It was fun. We could even call it ‘strengthening diplomatic relations.’” 

Lothar absolutely knew the moment Khadgar had decided to make a break for it and he reached out and grabbed the mage’s arm, pulling him back onto the bed. Khadgar didn’t even attempt to resist him. 

“Lothar, please,” Khadgar said plaintively. 

Lothar? When was the last time Khadgar called him _that_? If Lothar had suspected that something was wrong before, now he was certain.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, perplexed. There was no response. Just when Lothar thought Khadgar was going to stonewall him, the mage spoke. 

“How much do you remember about last night?” he asked, looking away. 

“Not enough, obviously,” Lothar said, more sharply than he intended. 

“Should’ve given you the _other_ potion,” Khadgar muttered. 

“What?” 

Khadgar shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. 

“Khadgar,” Lothar said, his tone more placating. He squeezed the younger man’s arm gently. “What happened last night?” 

The mage finally looked at him, a tight smile on his face. “Nothing,” he repeated. At Lothar’s disbelieving expression, he added. “I mean it, Lothar. Nothing happened.” 

Lothar released Khadgar’s arm, eyeing the younger man critically. To his credit, Khadgar didn’t flinch under the scrutiny. Lothar eventually sighed, shaking his head. “If that were true,” he said quietly. “You wouldn’t be behaving this way. Or calling me Lothar,” he added. “Was it the bet?” 

Khadgar instantly tensed at the question. 

Ah. 

“Tell me about the bet,” Lothar pressed. 

“It was foolish,” Khadgar replied, attempting to deflect.

“Since it was made with dwarfs, of that I have no doubt,” Lothar agreed with a grin. Then he grew serious. “Tell me about the bet,” he repeated, a tone of command underpinning his voice. 

There was another long silence, but Lothar knew to wait the mage out. 

“Dalgus began teasing you for working too hard,” Khadgar began reluctantly, referring to the captain of the dwarven band. “All those diplomatic meetings and strategy sessions was making you too tense, which according to him, wasn’t healthy. He said that the quickest way to release all that tension would be to bed someone.” 

The mage actually flushed as he said the last statement. Lothar distractedly found the flush attractive. He didn’t think of Khadgar as prudish. Maybe a bit inexperienced. (What was that adage? All theory but no practice?) But definitely not a prude.

“So…ah…” Khadgar was floundering. “So…Dalgus suggested that…that you bed someone.” 

Lothar couldn’t help but grin. It sounded just like the captain. “That was the bet?” he confirmed. “Whether or not I could bed someone?” He thought the stakes rather mild for his dwarf friend. He’d half-expected Dalgus to suggest that he bed a _dwarf_ (which Lothar had done once before in Ironforge, a rogue-ish dwarf who was rather tall for the race).

“Was it the barmaid?” he asked thoughtfully after a moment. “The one with the auburn hair? Or maybe the new barkeep? What was his name?” Lothar murmured absently. “Stavros?” He’d found the new barkeep, a cousin or some other distant relation of the longtime owner, to be attractive too. When Khadgar didn’t respond, Lothar looked at him again. “I’m assuming you know who the person was,” he prodded. Khadgar couldn’t very well leave him in suspense. He hadn’t lost a bet to the dwarfs yet. 

If at all possible, Khadgar had flushed an even deeper shade of red. “The bet didn’t end there,” he said softly. “Dalgus was familiar with your…uh…success…in the bedroom.” 

_Ah,_ Lothar thought. _Here it comes. The_ real _bet_.

“So, to make the bet more challenging and worth your time, Dalgus said that you should bed the most unattainable person in the inn.” 

_The most unattainable person_ , Lothar mentally repeated. But that would mean… 

One look at Khadgar confirmed his suspicion. “Did we?” he asked, unable to hide his shock. 

“No!” Khadgar exclaimed quickly. 

Lothar exhaled, unaware that he’d been holding his breath. Truth be told, he was both relieved and more than a little disappointed. As close as Khadgar had become to him, he couldn’t allow himself to think of the mage in that way. Just…no. Khadgar was off limits. Life was complicated enough as it was. 

“Listen,” he said, running a hand absently through his unruly hair. “I’m sorry for whatever I put you through last night. No wonder you’re so tense –” 

Whatever else Lothar had been planning to say was drowned out by Khadgar’s abrupt laugh. It was a surprisingly harsh sound and filled with so much regret that Lothar was alarmed. 

“No, you don’t understand,” the mage was saying, eyes downcast and looking anywhere but at Lothar. “You didn’t do anything last night. It was me. I…” Khadgar faltered. 

Like a lock sliding into place, Lothar remembered. He remembered Khadgar straddling his lap in the middle of the inn. He remembered a hot mouth pressed against his and a wet tongue that plundered. He remembered to whom those questing hands belonged, and how they’d curved around his neck as though afraid that he would pull away. 

“Wait,” Lothar said, reaching out and grabbing Khadgar’s arm again before the other attempted another escape. 

“This is so humiliating,” Khadgar muttered, face still turned away. “Even drunk you didn’t want me.” 

The potion that Khadgar had given Lothar had taken care of his monstrous hangover, but Lothar still wasn’t at his sharpest. More specifically, he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Khadgar had actually attempted to seduce him. In public. 

“Let me get this straight,” Lothar said, still trying to process the bizarre turn of events. “You thought getting me drunk and molesting me in front of an audience of dwarves was the best way to seduce me?” 

“No!” Khadgar cried, his mortification transforming into indignation at Lothar’s words. “That’s not how it was supposed to go at all!” 

“Tell me how it was supposed to go, spell-chucker,” Lothar challenged. Getting Khadgar worked up was a better approach than allowing the mage to wallow in his embarrassment. 

Khadgar was truly irritated now. He tried to wrench his arm free of Lothar’s grasp, but Lothar wouldn’t release him. “I just wanted to spend some time alone with you,” he finally said. “To see if you were open to changing our relationship, if you were maybe interested in more than friendship.” 

“And you thought getting me drunk was the best way to find out?” 

Khadgar glared at him balefully. “The ale was for _me_ ,” he retorted. 

“Liquid courage?” Lothar couldn’t help but tease. 

Now that his outburst had passed, the fire had burned out of Khadgar and he looked away again. “Please,” he said quietly. “Just let me go. We can forget about this. It doesn’t have to change anything.” 

That’s where Khadgar was wrong. Lothar wasn’t about to forget this. And it changed _everything_. 

“This is such a bad idea,” Lothar murmured.

Before he could change his mind, he pulled Khadgar fully onto the bed. Khadgar fell back in surprise and before the mage could react, Lothar grasped his jaw with his free hand as he leaned over to kiss him. Khadgar tensed, but Lothar persisted until with a sigh Khadgar opened up to him. He felt a hand snake behind his neck to hold him in place, and yes. That felt familiar to Lothar. As did the sweep of Khadgar’s mouth, the way their tongues glided against each together, and the easy give and take of their kiss. 

When Lothar at last pulled away, Khadgar was breathless and looking at him in a semi-daze. 

“What…what was that?” 

Lothar’s smirk was perhaps a little too self-satisfied. “I would have thought that rather obvious, spell-chucker,” he said. 

The flippant reply earned Lothar a smack on the arm, but Khadgar was smiling now despite his evident confusion. “I don’t understand,” he tried again. 

Lothar had pinned the younger man beneath him, so that he was lying sideways across Khadgar’s body. “Did it ever occur to you,” he said, his thumb absently running down Khadgar’s jaw, “that I didn’t sleep with you last night _because_ I was drunk? It wouldn’t have been a good experience for either of us.”

The stunned expression on the mage’s face informed Lothar that no, Khadgar had most definitely not considered the idea. 

Khadgar was flushed again, making Lothar wonder how far down that becoming flush would go if his companion weren’t wearing so many clothes. “Ah,” the mage merely said, his smile no longer guarded. It made him look very young. “So, what does this mean?” 

With a sigh, Lothar moved off the younger man and settled back on the bed. He was pleased that Khadgar instinctively moved with him. When the mage rested his head on Lothar’s shoulder, Lothar’s right arm automatically curled around the younger man’s back, drawing him close. 

“I guess this means I lost the bet,” Lothar mused. 

“No,” Khadgar disagreed, placing his hand on top of Lothar’s heart. “It just means you haven’t won it yet.” 

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** _Warcraft_ belongs to Blizzard and Legendary. No infringement is intended; no profit is being made.


End file.
